


Love Will Remind Us Who We Are

by blondsak



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Whump, Physical Therapy, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, defenestration of canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-21 23:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: There had been many times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which, upon first waking, one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not.But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now.//Nine months after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Tony is still reckoning with the toll the final snap took on his body. Between grueling physical therapy, near-constant pain, and the inability to so much as tie his own shoes, well-- things aren’t exactly like Tony had imagined.Luckily for him, there’s a certain kid from Queens who won’t let Tony give up so easily.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 131
Kudos: 447





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethy_277](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethy_277/gifts).



> For Beth, who placed the top bet on my Marvel Trumps Hate charity auction. Thank you for supporting my work and (more importantly) donating to a great cause, lovely!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> As this was a fic that had actual money behind it I wanted it to be the best it could be, and so there are many people to thank this time around! Thank you to:  
> \- seekrest for connecting me with real life physical therapists and generally being the best hypewoman  
> \- geekymoviemom for sharing her medical expertise  
> \- coconutknightshade, pokeydotes and peterstarkss for reading it over  
> \- frostysunflowers and hailingstars for their ideas and encouragement  
> \- a bunch of people on discord - you know who you are! 
> 
> This fic will be two chapters, with the final chapter being posted next Saturday.

Tony sits out on the front porch of the lake home, waiting for Peter to come out-- having already waved goodbye to Pepper and Morgan as they drove off, bound for SI and preschool.

It’s a beautiful June day, the kind where the cool breeze provides a perfect respite from the summer sun, and everything smells fresh after a night’s rain. The birds are in good spirits, singing in the trees-- the sound of the lake softly lapping at the shoreline providing a constant background beat. 

It’s a beautiful June day, and Tony’s in a rotten mood because today?

Today Is a Bad Day.

He’d had many phases of Good and Bad Days in his life, of course. The first few months after his parents died… the trenches of PTSD post-wormhole… the years where Peter was gone _(not dead, not dead, just_ gone-- _the dead don’t come back and Peter came_ back. _You brought him_ back) _._

So yes, there had been times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which - upon first waking - one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not. 

But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now. 

Hadn’t prepared him for days when the pain in his arm and chest is unrelenting-- burrowing into every muscle and vein like the roots of a tree digging into the earth. 

Hadn’t prepared him for the tremors every time he attempted to lift his right shoulder more than a few inches, or when he tried to hold a cup of coffee in his weak grip. 

Hadn’t prepared him for the emotional toll of watching Morgan run into someone else’s arms and be immediately scooped up, knowing he could no longer do the same-- and probably wouldn’t be able to until long after she was too big to be carried.

Tony’s pulled out of his grim thoughts when the screen door swings open, Peter stepping out only to immediately turn to Tony. His smile is soft but wobbly, and Tony knows then Peter can already tell what kind of day it is.

“Hey, you ready to go?” the kid asks, voice light and tentative. 

Tony looks out at the lake for a few seconds-- taking a moment to gather a good front.

The kid feels guilty enough, and Tony hates being the reason why-- hates even more when the pain and frustration get to him and he can’t hide it, which just makes Peter feel even worse.

But for right now, Tony knows he can keep it under wraps-- at least until they get to the clinic.

When he turns back to Peter he has an easy grin plastered on his face.

“Ready when you are, underoos.”

Peter nods, turning and locking the front door while Tony gets to his feet, his bum arm staying close to his stomach. It was an instinctive posture of stooped protection he knew he’d have to work to eliminate, along with a million other milestones he had to reach before he’d be back to his normal self-- ignoring the voice of reason in the back of his mind that said that day would never come.

_No,_ he tells himself. He’d get there-- he would. 

He had to, because he couldn’t stand the thought of always being this useless… of always being such a burden to his loved ones.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter calls, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You okay?”

_Fuck._ Not even thirty seconds and he’d already let his front fall long enough for Peter to spot the cracks in his mask.

“Pass me the keys, kid,” Tony teases, and he can taste the dry plaster on his lips. “I’m driving.”

Peter rolls his eyes dramatically, and Tony knows he’s not the only one trying to put up a front.

_I’m sorry, kid._

“Not on your life, old man. C’mon, we better get going or we’ll be late and Vee will chew _me_ out for once.”

* * *

Tony knows it’s a miracle he survived the snap. 

He had been so certain he was going to die in those last moments of consciousness on the battlefield. Even in agonizing pain, all he felt was an overwhelming sense of love as Pepper knelt beside him, begging him to stay awake. 

The last thing he’d seen was Peter’s bruised and bloodied face, eyes shining with tears as Rhodey held him.

_Worth it,_ he’d thought just before his eyes closed and everything - colors, sounds, feeling - drifted into oblivion. 

But it hadn’t been the end.

Tony had woken up two weeks later in a medbay in Wakanda, being attended to by the best minds and the most progressive tech in the world. 

Still, even with the help of the Wakandan healers, it had been an uphill battle from the start. Infection had been a constant worry those first few months, when surgical debridement had been regularly implemented. It was easily one of the most painful things Tony had ever endured, and grouped with the daily bandage switch-outs and the eventual skin grafts… well, Tony felt confident wielding the Infinity stones had been less excruciating.

But somehow, it had also been easier in Wakanda. Perhaps it was just that Tony had never been there before and thus didn’t associate the place with anything but his time of healing, but even in the worst moments of those first four months-- Tony had remained optimistic that he would make a fairly quick recovery. 

After all, Tony knew how to work hard when he put his mind to it. Starks were nothing if not about defying the odds-- give Tony a few months of physical therapy and exercises, and he figured his life would be able to resume much as it had before.

But that was not how things had gone. It was now nine months since he’d snapped, and even with all the intensive PT, Tony felt like he’d barely made progress. 

The major nerve and muscle damage to his arm meant that when he wasn’t doing exercises it stayed cradled at his side, useless for nearly everything. Even gripping a utensil to eat was a mostly futile endeavor-- Tony having had to become more or less ambidextrous, using his left hand for most tasks instead.

Still, Tony was glad to be home. Home meant watching beautiful sunsets across the lake, and quiet evenings sitting with Pepper. Home meant Morgan not having to see Tony in a hospital bed or hooked up to machines-- able to snuggle with him on the couch to watch a movie, or go outside with him to play. 

Home meant Peter being able to visit on the weekends, only to decide to spend the whole summer with the Starks upstate-- wanting to help out with Tony’s recovery, and particularly with driving him to and from the thrice-weekly PT appointments in the city.

At first Tony had rebelled against the idea, telling Peter that he had plenty of assistance between the many revolving nurse aides and drivers Pepper had hired in preparation for their return. Besides, Peter should be able to enjoy his summer with his friends, not to mention go on that school trip to Europe that May had mentioned. 

But the kid had only shaken his head and said _my mind’s made up, Tony --_ employing a rare use of Tony’s first name, something Peter only did when he wanted to make sure he was being heard and respected. 

Tony had begrudgingly allowed it, even if internally he’d been giddy at the idea of having the kid he had mourned for five years back at his side on the daily-- at being able to constantly bask in the feeling of awe that so easily overtook Tony now. 

Because Peter wasn’t gone any longer, no-- he was _right there,_ joking with Pepper and playing with Morgan and talking over suit upgrades with Tony.

Tony had looked forward to those moments, and so far had yet to be disappointed-- still marveling at the fact that he no longer had to mourn the loss of all the bright, beautiful things that made up Peter Benjamin Parker.

What Tony hadn’t anticipated, however, was the shame he’d come to feel with Peter seeing him so vulnerable. Seeing those days when the pain of Tony’s PT exercises made him tremble and tear up in pain, or worse-- verbally lash out in frustration. Seeing just how thick the fog in Tony’s mind had become with all the pain medication he was on-- keeping him from even being trusted to drive the riding lawn mower, much less an actual vehicle.

Then there were the many moments - often triggered by something as small as not being able to open the ketchup bottle or jot down a note on a Post-It - when Tony would be consumed by dark thoughts, terrified that he’d never recover even some basic skills-- would be nothing more than a burden for everyone who loved him.

But so far, Tony had been able to push those thoughts away, mostly. Because he would get better-- there was simply no other option. If he didn’t, then that meant being like _this_ \- unable to be the kind of husband and father and protector he had been before - for the rest of his life. 

And that was frankly unacceptable.

* * *

“Five more to go, Tony.”

Tony pulls on the band of the weight machine with his right arm, face red and sweat pouring down his face.

The weights attached to the machine lift one inch, two inches, maybe three before they suddenly drop, Tony groaning from the strain. 

“Good job. Again.”

This time, the weights barely lift even an inch before they fall again, Tony panting.

“C’mon, Tony. Only three more reps to go,” Vee says. 

“I can’t,” Tony replies, wiping at his brow with his good hand. “God, it just-- it fuckin’ hurts.”

“Yes, you can,” Vee says, ever firm.

Tony sighs. “You’re a pain in my ass, Benning, you know that?”

“Good. That means I’m lighting a fire under it,” Vee replies with a smirk. 

She nods at the weight machine. “Now quit stalling, Stark. Three more reps and then we can move on to cuff rotations. I know those are your favorite, after all.”

“Oh, goodie,” Tony says with no small amount of sarcasm. 

Veronica Benning was one of the most sought-after physical therapists in New York City, and also a frequent source of frustration - not to mention physical agony - for Tony. He knew it was her job and what they were paying her for, but damn if it wasn’t easy to project all his misery on her the three times he had PT during the week.

Tony thinks back to when he’d returned to the cabin following their first PT session. He’d told Pepper that under no circumstances was he going back to Vee’s clinic-- that she pushed him too much and clearly didn’t understand his injury and didn’t listen when he said he’d had enough and now he could barely move his arm or even fingers and _I thought the point of this was for me to get better, damnit!_

Tony shouldn’t have been so surprised at Pepper’s reply.

_So she makes you work and doesn’t back down when you snipe at her… why do you think I chose her, Tony? Also you’re going back, end of discussion._

Five months later and countless sessions together, he’d come to respect the woman’s methods, even for as much as he complained.

Luckily Vee took it in stride, having become accustomed long ago to dealing with difficult clients. She didn’t even mind when Peter started showing up to their appointments and accompanying them to the therapy fitness room every day, saying he hated waiting in the front office and would rather be “doing something.”

Tony hadn’t been oblivious-- he knew Peter just wanted to stay close by, having heard Tony complain about how much pain his appointments caused him. Unfortunately Peter’s presence hadn’t deterred Vee in the slightest, and she continued to push him, maybe even harder. Worse, Peter actually getting to witness the sessions had caused him to toggle over to Pepper’s side, saying things like _she seems really cool, Mr. Stark_ and _well, you_ do _need someone who won’t take your bullshit._

_Traitor,_ Tony had accused in response, to which Peter had only laughed.

Pulling himself back into the present, Tony glances over to the mat area where Peter has to be on his four millionth one-armed push up. 

He’ll have to remind the kid to tone it back to average teenage boy levels. Tony likes Vee well enough but he’s not sure she can be trusted with a secret of that magnitude.

“Chop, chop, Stark,” Vee says then, and Tony turns back to where she’s watching him, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Just because you saved the universe doesn’t mean you’ve got permission to slack now.”

“Damn right I saved the universe, Vee,” Tony bites back, frustration welling as he eyes the weight machine. “You could stand to be nicer to me once in a while for it.”

“You saved the universe,” Vee repeats, folding her arms determinedly. “Which is why I know you’re strong enough to do this now.”

_God, no wonder Pepper likes her_ , Tony thinks-- they’re both made of vibranium.

Iron never stood a chance.

Tony sees Peter watching them now, clearly having listened in on the exchange. When their gazes meet the kid just nods and gives him an encouraging smile, Tony feeling a wave of determination flow through him at the sight.

Well shit, he can’t disappoint _both_ of them, can he?

“Okay, Vee. Three more reps coming right up.”

* * *

Tony sits at the kitchen table, doing hand strengthening exercises. Even when he wasn’t at his sessions, he was still on a strict PT regimen-- stuck doing dozens of repetitive movements a day, from right after he woke up until right before he went to sleep.

He still had to do his reps even on the days when he couldn’t get out of bed-- the days when his arm felt like it was on fire and the flames licked at his chest with every tight breath. He’d nearly stayed in today-- only the sound of Morgan chatting excitedly to Pepper as she got ready for preschool rallying him. 

After all, Tony already had missed so much time with his daughter since he’d been injured-- he wouldn’t let himself miss more if he could help it. 

Still, it was taking everything in him to finish his exercises. God, how he hated them. If Peter hadn’t been sitting in the living room - pretending to read on his tablet but in actuality watching Tony like a hawk - then he’d say _fuck it_ just this once. 

But he couldn’t do that, not when the kid had prodded him twice already to do his afternoon reps.

Not when his whole family was counting on him to get better.

It didn’t change the fact that all PT served to do - or so it felt - was remind Tony of just how weak his body really was. How even though he really was giving it all he could most days, he hadn’t reached any of the goals he’d silently set for himself months ago. 

Nevermind that he’d reached all the ones Vee had set for him, some of them ahead of schedule.

Tony shakes his head at himself, sighing. He’s just so damn _tired_ of being weak.

There’s the sound of a car pulling up the driveway then, and only a minute later the screen door slams open.

“Hi Dad! Hi Petey!”

“Hey, Mo,” Peter says with a laugh when Morgan practically launches herself at him, skinny arms going tight around his neck.

“Hey, Mongoose,” Tony greets his daughter with a smile, standing up and ignoring the knowing glare Peter sends him-- well aware that Tony was about to use Pepper and Morgan’s arrival as an excuse to abandon the rest of his reps. 

He walks over to his little girl and wraps his good arm around her, chuckling when she returns it just as fiercely. 

“How was your day, sweetheart?”

“Good! Will you come play outside with me?”

Just then Pepper walks in, a few groceries and her briefcase in tow. 

“Hey hon,” Tony says, Pepper pausing just long enough to give him a quick kiss and a soft smile before walking past him and Morgan, heading into the kitchen.

“And how was your guys’ day?” she asks Tony as she starts to put away the groceries.

“Good,” Tony answers, only for Pepper to send him A Look.

“Is it actually a Good Day?” she asks, gaze warm but concerned.

Tony opens his mouth only to let out a soft sigh, giving a tight shake of his head.

“You should go lie down,” Pepper says. “We can wake you for dinner.”

“No!” Morgan protests, running over and clinging to Tony’s leg. “I want Daddy to come play outside with me.”

She looks up at Tony. “Please, Daddy?”

Tony’s exhausted-- knows he should probably go lie down as Pepper suggested.

But he also nearly died less than a year ago, and he’s already missed so much. 

If his daughter wants to play with him, who is he to say no? 

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says, Morgan letting out a cheer and racing over to the door.

“Tony…”

“I’ll be fine, Pep,” Tony reassures her, taking off after Morgan and studiously avoiding Pepper’s look of mild disapproval.

“Alright, well have fun,” she finally says, starting to pull pots out. “Peter, would you mind cutting up the carrots for me?”

Peter jumps up off the couch, passing by Tony heading in the opposite direction-- easily dodging Tony’s half-hearted attempt to ruffle his hair.

“Hey!”

Tony just chuckles, heading out into the front yard where Morgan is already taking off toward the woods. 

“C’mon Dad!”

“I’m coming,” he says, feeling a burst of renewed energy as he breathes in the thick scent of pine that wafts on the breeze. 

Before he snapped, Tony had spent countless days playing with his daughter outside-- having tea parties in her tent, taking hikes in the woods, and building sandcastles along the shore of the lake. 

_This feels good,_ Tony thinks, but more importantly-- _this feels normal._

With a grin he starts to jog a bit, following the familiar path Morgan had gone down. It’s not too much farther into the trees that he realizes where she’d been heading-- the treehouse.

It had been built by the family they’d bought the cabin from, and was still pretty sturdy-- Tony having climbed up there and taken a look around only a few weeks before Nat, Scott and Steve had shown up. 

He’d meant to replace a few of the more weathered boards but overall the structure was sound, he knew-- grateful now he’d checked as Morgan was already halfway up the old knotted rope that served as the treehouse ladder.

He got to the base of the tree just as Morgan scrambled over the ledge of the doorway, turning around to look back down at Tony.

“Look, Daddy!”

Tony laughs. “I see, Morguna. That was some excellent climbing you just did.”

“Your turn!” Morgan says, pointing at him.

Tony eyes the rope, inwardly cursing.

“I’d love to, Mongoose but I don’t think I can.”

_“Please,_ Daddy?” Morgan begs. “Please try? Please!”

Tony turns to look back toward the direction of the house. He knows that if either Peter or Pepper saw him even attempting to do this they’d probably literally ground him, but the treehouse is far enough into the woods that there’s no way they’d catch him unless they came out here themselves. 

Besides, Vee is always pushing him to test his limits ( _nevermind that’s at her clinic in a controlled environment,_ his mind betrays him). 

He really shouldn’t do this, it’s a terrible idea, he could hurt himself, and yet--

“Please, Daddy?”

Tony sighs, smiling back up at Morgan. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“Yay!”

Morgan’s head disappears from view as Tony grabs the rope and starts to climb.

The pain is immediate and fierce, the pull on his arm and shoulder muscles nearly causing him to let out a gasp, but he pushes through it and just keeps climbing, relying as much as he can on balancing his toes on the rope knots to lessen the weight. 

By the time he’s halfway up his entire body is trembling, arm shaking from the strain, his grip weakening. But he’s made it this far already-- he’s not going to quit. 

Because what kind of father is he if he can’t even climb a twenty foot rope to go play with his kid? Not the kind of father Tony wants to be, that’s for damn sure.

“Hurry up!” Morgan calls out. “There’s books and magazines!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” Tony grunts out, biting back a groan as he starts the second half of the ascent.

By the time Tony clears the ledge of the treehouse door he feels like he ran a marathon, his arm and shoulder screaming at him and yet--

_I did it,_ he thinks, looking back down at the ground twenty feet below and grinning. _I actually did it!_

He crawls over toward where Morgan sits, back to the treehouse wall and a seven year-old copy of _National Geographic_ in her hands. 

“Look Daddy, this one’s about penguins!” she exclaims, pointing to the picture on the cover. “Can you read me the penguin story?”

“Of course, baby,” Tony says, a fond warmth flooding him when Morgan readily climbs into his lap and rests her head against his chest. 

It’s not that he hasn’t read to her since he came home-- he has, nearly every night. But he hasn’t gotten a chance to do it when it’s just the two of them like this, outside of the house and up in a treehouse of all places-- a hidden oasis just their own.

It reminds him of how they’d play hide and seek in the yard before his injury-- and anything that reminds him of happy times before his injury is a step in the right direction, he knows.

Maybe things really can be like they were before.

Thirty minutes later Tony finishes reading the article to Morgan, just in time it seems as the sun has long dipped below the treeline.

“Alright sweetheart, what do you say we head back inside? I bet Mom and Peter are almost done making dinner.”

Morgan nods against Tony’s chest before lifting herself off him and heading for the treehouse opening. Tony crawls over to the edge and steadies her as she carefully grabs the rope and starts to climb down. 

He’s just let go of her when he hears it-- the sound of ripping. He glances down at where the rope hits the lip of the treehouse ledge to see it’s frayed to only a few last threads-- each tearing apart one-by-one due to the strain of the weight they’re holding.

“Morgan!” Tony cries, leaning over and grabbing onto her wrist with his right hand just as the rope breaks.

Morgan lets out a scream as she suddenly goes weightless, only to swing back and forth in Tony’s grip.

“Daddy!” she cries.

“I got you, baby, I got you,” Tony tells her, starting to lift his good arm from where it’s bracing their weight only to cling desperately onto the wall of the treehouse again-- realizing that if he lets go at this angle, they’ll both topple down to the rocky forest floor.

_You can do this,_ he tells himself as he uses all his remaining strength to try to lift Morgan - who by now is crying in terror, tears streaming down her cheeks - with only his injured arm.

But even as he pulls with everything he’s got, he finds his grip on her wrist slipping, his fingers too weak to keep a hold on her.

“No!” Tony cries out as he feels her sliding out of his grasp, “Morgan!”

“Daddy!” Morgan screams just as Tony’s shoulder spasms and his fingers let go of their own accord. 

Tony watches in absolute terror as Morgan starts to fall, and _god,_ she’s going to hit dirt and rocks and roots, she’s going to be bloodied and broken and she could _die_ and Tony will never survive that, he’ll never--

_Thwip-thwip!_

A giant web net forms under Morgan just as she’s about to hit the ground below, instead landing safely and bouncing once before settling in the middle.

Tony looks up to see Peter racing over, arm still outstretched, Pepper hot on his heels. 

“Oh my god!” Pepper cries out, reaching Morgan just as the little girl climbs out of the net, still sobbing.

Pepper plucks her up into her arms, Morgan readily clinging to her. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“My arm hurts,” Morgan says with a wet hiccup, showing Pepper the arm Tony had clung to where there are no doubt bruises forming around her wrist.

“Let’s go inside and take a closer look, okay?” Pepper says, already walking down the path and back toward the house, Morgan nodding into her shoulder and continuing to cry.

Tony can tell by the way Pepper doesn’t so much as glance at him that she’s angry beyond measure, and honestly Tony doesn’t blame her-- hating himself in that moment more than he ever has.

What kind of idiot was he to think he could climb up into a treehouse like that? To let his daughter go up there in the first place when he hadn’t made sure the rope was safe?

What kind of idiot was he to--

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony looks down through teary eyes to see Peter staring up at him. 

“You, uh-- you okay to jump down?”

Tony gives a tight nod, wiping at his face before climbing over the edge of the opening and hopping out. 

He lands sideways on the net, grunting in pain when his shoulder is jostled.

Peter leans over to help him out but Tony waves him off. 

Peter shakes his head. “Here, take my--”

“I can do it myself,” Tony snaps, knowing he sounds like a petulant child but in that moment not caring-- too pissed off at himself, at the situation, at absolutely _everything._

Tony starts to stalk off back toward the house, Peter standing awkwardly for a few moments before jogging after him.

“Are you sure you’re--”

“Goddamnit, Peter,” Tony growls, whipping around to face the kid. “Can you give it a rest already?”

To his credit, Peter’s jaw only drops for a moment before his expression settles into grim determination. 

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re not hurt.”

“Me? I’m fine,” Tony says, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “I mean, I’m a useless piece of shit who’s too weak to keep my five year-old daughter from falling to her death, but otherwise? I’m just _dandy.”_

Peter frowns, undeterred. “I know you’re lashing out because you feel guilty, but it was clearly an accident. It doesn’t say anything about how good a father you--”

“Did you not hear me the first time? I told you to give it a damn rest!” Tony snaps, Peter’s jaw clenching even as his eyes go wide in shock. “You wanted to know if I was fine and I am _fine_ so quit bothering me about it, goddamnit.”

The air between them is filled with tension as they stare at one another before Peter looks away, shoulders slumping.

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” he says, walking past Tony with downcast eyes and making his way toward the house. 

Tony watches him until he disappears from view, before trudging over to a nearby tree and sitting down-- leaning his head against the trunk with a sigh and wiping at his eyes.

God, what had he been thinking, coming out here alone in the first place with Morgan? He clearly can’t protect his own daughter, can’t even lift her to save her damn _life._

Tony let Pepper fall, he let Rhodey plummet, he watched Peter disappear in his arms, and now he’s let his own daughter nearly fall way too. 

Tony can feel his entire body trembling, a terrible headache roaring in his ears as he grabs at the front of his shirt with his good arm, trying to calm himself down before he has a panic attack.

He feels nauseous-- sick to his stomach at how much worse things could have turned out if Peter hadn’t been there. 

And how had he repaid the kid right after he saved Morgan’s life? By chewing Peter out like an ungrateful piece of scum.

Tony lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. He’d been so excited about having the kid here for the summer, but he could see the truth now-- he was just bringing Peter down. Because even though having Peter so close significantly brightened Tony’s life, he could only think most of the time that he was stealing that same brightness away from Peter’s-- away from his entire family’s, when it came down to it.

And despite knowing that his family and friends would all argue those thoughts were simply lies - that Tony had never _stopped_ being the strong protector he had been before - deep down, Tony knew the truth.

The fact was, Tony was never going to be the capable husband, dad and father-figure he used to be. 

And it was long past time that he finally accepted it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good job, Tony. Now go again.”

He pulls on the band of the weight machine, his muscles burning from the strain. The weights rise about half a foot before dropping down again.

“Good. Two to go,” Vee says.

Again Tony pulls, but this time the weights only rise an inch before his arm spasms and he lets go with a groan of pain, clutching at his shoulder.

Vee gives him five seconds to breathe through the pain before saying, “One more, Tony.”

“I can’t,” Tony pants out, still holding his arm. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not too much,” Vee argues. “And I know you can. You just did it seven times in a row.”

“Okay fine, but-- what’s the point?” Tony says, sitting down on the weight machine’s bench and looking up at Vee with a glare. “It’s not like I’ll ever be Iron Man again.”

Vee rolls her eyes, unmoved. “You know I don’t care for melodrama, Stark.”

“I’m not being melodramatic-- I’m being realistic!” Tony yells, and he can feel Peter’s eyes on him from across the room where the kid is using a stair-stepper.

He glances over only for Peter to quickly look away, pretending he wasn’t listening-- not even giving Tony an encouraging smile.

It had been almost a month since the treehouse incident, and the sour mood that had taken over the entire Stark household had yet to fully abate. 

Of course, Tony had talked it out with Pepper, had apologized to Peter, had hugged Morgan… but still, it felt like the floor had been knocked out from underneath all of them, and they were still struggling to find their footing. 

While Pepper insisted that of course she still trusted him with Morgan, Tony had still caught her a few times watching Tony almost warily -- her faith in his judgement to know his physical limits clearly shaken. Not that it was even a problem, since Morgan no longer asked Tony to go outside or even to do much of anything that was just the two of them, now instead going to Peter first with any playtime requests.

For Peter’s part, the optimistic and casual approach he’d taken to Tony’s recovery up until then had been all but snuffed out. No longer did he chastise Tony if he didn’t complete his daily reps, or halfheartedly encourage him to get out of bed on the Bad Days as he had before. 

Of course Peter was still helpful and kind as always, but now he seemed almost fearful of even acknowledging Tony’s clear ability differences, seemingly preferring to just let it be a silent specter in any interactions they had.

Tony hated that his lashing out had caused that chasm between him and Peter, almost as much as he hated that his hubris had nearly gotten Morgan killed.

Pepper was right to still be wary, he thinks. He hasn’t been the best dad lately even _with_ his injury.

He turns back to Vee. “I’m sorry I'm being such an asshole. I just… I used to be a superhero. And now, I can’t even lift thirty pounds of weight without feeling like a bus hit me.”

When Vee doesn’t answer Tony sighs, looking down at his hands. “I know this will sound ungrateful - especially to someone like you, who no doubt has seen worse - but sometimes I wish they’d just cut off my arm so I could be done with it. If it was just gone, then maybe I’d have already built myself a new one and accepted that I’m not the same man I was before, and that-- that I never will be again.”

When he looks back at Vee again he sees her expression has softened, if only a little. She looks like she’s about to say something when her watch chimes, indicating the end of their session.

Vee gives Tony a smile. “Chin up, Tony. Things will get better.”

 _I’m not so sure of that,_ Tony thinks but doesn’t say.

He glances over at Peter only to see the kid watching him again, a thoughtful look on his face, before Peter turns away once more.

* * *

Tony is just finishing his morning reps the next day when there’s a knock at the door, Peter running to get it.

“Mr. Stark, it’s for you!” Peter yells before racing past Tony and up the stairs. Tony hears the kid’s bedroom door click closed.

“What the hell?” he mutters to himself before walking over to the door and flinging it open to reveal Rhodey standing on the porch, a giant smile on his face.

“What-- what are you doing here?” Tony asks, genuinely surprised as he steps out to give his best friend a hug. “You just told me last week you were stuck in DC the rest of the month, you liar!”

Rhodey just chuckles into Tony’s shoulder, before pulling away. “Thought I’d come check in, see how y’all were holding up.”

When Tony merely raises an eyebrow skeptically, Rhodey adds, “And I might’ve gotten a phone call last night from your eldest mini-me.”

Tony closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, that sounds like him. What’d he tell you?”

“Not much,” Rhodey replies. “Just that you’ve been beating yourself up more than you usually do-- which is already too much as it is. So what’s going on, man?”

Tony motions to the porch chairs, both of them taking a seat. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, Rhodey patiently giving Tony time to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know, Rhodey,” Tony says eventually, shaking his head. “I guess it’s finally hitting me that this is my life now.”

“Yeah, it is your life,” Rhodey says with a grin. “You got both your kids with you, you’re celebrated as a savior across the galaxy-- not too bad a deal if you ask me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d never trade places if it meant living without Peter again but…” 

Tony sighs in frustration, throwing up his good hand. “I can’t play video games with the kid. I can’t put the straw in Morgan’s juice pouches. Can’t even tie my own damn shoes. There’s a million other things I can’t do anymore, and while I hate that-- I can mostly live with it.”

Tony pauses, chewing his lip. “But knowing I can’t protect them - that Morgan almost got seriously hurt and I couldn’t stop it, that something could happen to her or Pete _again_ and I can’t stop it - that’s a lot fuckin’ harder to accept.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Tones, but you couldn’t stop it before either,” Rhodey says, putting his hands up in surrender at Tony’s sharp glare. “Look, all I’m saying is-- you can’t control everything. What you _can_ do is accept that and work within the parameters you’ve been given.”

“You know I don’t do well with parameters, platypus,” Tony tosses back.

“Don’t I know it,” Rhodey agrees with a laugh. “You’re stubborn as they come. But that’s also how I know that as much strength as you can possibly get back, however much that ends up being? You’re going to get there, because you’re Tony Stark and Tony Stark doesn’t quit.”

When Tony doesn’t answer, Rhodey reaches over and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Would you call me any less of a strong person because I need my braces just to walk?”

“Of course not,” Tony replies, shaking his head at the idiocy of the thought.

Rhodey cocks an eyebrow. “Then don’t say that shit about my best friend either.”

Tony huffs, before lifting his good arm and putting his hand over Rhodey’s. “You’re right, Rhodey. It doesn’t change the fact that I still hate that something could happen and I can’t protect them like I used to but… you’re right.”

Rhodey raises his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Damn, can I get that in writing? Is FRIDAY recording us? I need a copy of the tape so I can play it back every time you don’t listen to me.”

“I take it back. You’re just a pain in my ass.”

“Good,” Rhodey says, lips curling up. “Then I’m doing something right.”

Tony rolls his eyes, making a mental note to ask Vee if she’s single at their next session. Something tells him Rhodey and her would hit it off splendidly. 

* * *

The discussion with Rhodey, while not exactly solving Tony’s inner crisis, did serve to put a few things into perspective. There were still days when Tony cursed his new limitations, but at least now he could accept them-- this time without the intense self-hatred.

As always, the process was made easier with Peter’s presence, the kid serving as the best possible reminder of everything Tony had gained in comparison to what he had lost.

Besides, it wasn’t like Tony wasn’t making any progress. He was reaching every goal Vee set for him, and he could feel himself getting slightly stronger with every passing week. 

Sure, he might never get back to 100%, but Rhodey had been right-- Tony was still Tony, and he wasn’t a quitter. 

After all, he built his first suit out of scraps in a cave. He could work with what he had before him now, too. 

* * *

July rolls into August, and soon enough Peter’s birthday is upon them. 

Tony and Pepper get up extra early that morning, Pepper going to retrieve Peter’s birthday gift while Tony gets Morgan up and ready for the day.

Pepper had just walked back in the door when Peter emerges from upstairs, already showered and dressed.

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday boy,” Tony says with a grin, pulling Peter in for a hug. “Happy seventeenth birthday, Pete.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter replies, accepting a hug from Pepper just as Morgan runs up to him, Peter smoothly picking her up.

“Happy birthday Petey!” Morgan exclaims, planting a big kiss on the Peter's cheek.

In response Peter gives her a peck on the forehead, grinning. “Thanks, Mo.”

 _Worth it,_ Tony thinks to himself-- the words a bright and cheerful song in his soul every time he sees Peter’s smile, or hears his laugh, or watches him being so loving with Morgan like he is now.

“Alright kid, it’s up to you-- do you want your first present before or after breakfast?”

Peter’s brow furrows. “You mean we’re not waiting until May and Happy arrive to open gifts?”

“Just this one gift,” Tony says, smirking. “Thought maybe you and I could take it for a test run before they get here.”

Peter’s eyes turn into saucers. “Mr. Stark-- you didn’t--”

Without finishing his sentence Peter gently sets Morgan down before racing to the front window and looking out at the driveway. He stares in awe for a few seconds before turning around to face Tony, mouth gaping.

“No way! Is that--”

“A 2018 Corolla? Yes,” Tony says. “I personally wanted to go with something a bit flashier but May was adamant that you drive something” - Tony throws up air quotes - “‘used and sensible’ for your first vehicle, so we compromised. Still needs to be outfitted with Karen and a few other upgrades, but-- it’s all yours.”

Tony chuckles as Peter walks over to him, only to let out an _oof!_ when the kid wraps his arms around Tony’s middle.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. I love it,” he says, Tony resting his chin on Peter’s head and hugging him back with his good arm before pulling away.

“So, what do you say we take it for a drive while Pepper and Morgan get started on the pancakes?”

Peter grins. “Definitely.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you got me a car!” Peter exclaims for the fourth time as they go around a curve, Tony grinning from the passenger seat. 

Watching Peter delight in his gift reminds Tony of how much he misses when he could drive-- how often he would go out to test a new purchase for his garage, or even just to think on those nights when the lab walls felt like they were closing in on him. 

The desire to recapture whatever tendrils are left of that old freedom he had so stupidly taken for granted is what leads him to suggest what he does next.

“Pedal to the metal, Pete,” he says with a mischievous grin, Peter increasing the speed by about five miles in response.

Tony scowls. “Seriously?”

“I’m already going over the speed limit!” Peter argues, but he’s chuckling.

“Oh c’mon! We haven’t even passed another car since we left,” Tony replies, then with a raised eyebrow adds, “Besides, don’t you want to know how fast this baby can go?”

Peter rolls his eyes, but Tony can tell by the eager look on the kid’s face that he’s given in.

“Just for a minute,” Peter says.

“Just for a minute,” Tony echoes, grinning when he feels the car accelerate.

It all happens so fast. One second they’re racing down the highway, Peter laughing at his own audacity and Tony watching Peter-- feeling nothing but a fierce and overwhelming happiness. 

Then suddenly Peter goes quiet and rigid, not taking his eyes off the road even as he says, “Mr. Stark, I think something’s--”

Peter suddenly yelps and slams on the brakes, Tony’s head whipping forward just in time to see a deer dart into the road.

“Pete, don’t--”

 _Swerve!_ Tony tries to say but it comes out as a garbled scream instead, Peter yanking on the wheel hard before over-correcting-- sending the car careening into the highway’s outer guardrail. 

Tony feels himself go weightless only to be flung painfully forward when the car flips, barely saved from having his head slammed into the dash by the airbag deploying. To his left he hears Peter let out a scream that is instantly cut off by the sound of glass cracking. 

Before he can look over at the kid the car lands again, only to start barrel-rolling down an embankment. Any calm thoughts Tony had left are lost to the cacophony of metal crunching and more glass shattering as the car continues to spin.

The Corolla rolls five or six times before finally coming to a stop upside down when it hits a tree-- rocking against it once, then twice before settling.

The sudden quiet is disorienting, Tony breaking it when his breaths turn into hacking coughs. Once the fit finally ends he tries to take stock. His entire body feels sore, his bad shoulder aching the most from where it was slammed against the passenger side door while his chest feels on fire from the strain of the seatbelt holding him in place. 

But even as he determines that he’s not mortally injured Tony’s thoughts turn to Peter, his head whipping over to the driver’s side. A rush of horror overtakes him when he sees it’s empty-- nothing but the broken remnants of a seatbelt hanging down and a giant, human-sized hole in the windshield.

“Pete-- Peter!” Tony says, scrambling with his good hand to undo his strap, hearing it click only to fall head-first onto the ceiling of the car with a grunt.

Tony ignores the sharp glass that cuts up his knees and hands as he crawls out the passenger side window.

“Peter!” he calls out as he gets to his feet, frantically looking back up the embankment and across the treeline but seeing no sign of the kid. Tony leans down, looking back into the car and that’s when he sees it-- an outstretched, limp arm resting in the grass on the other side, right beside the base of the tree that the car was heavily leaning against. 

“Peter!”

Tony races around to the other side of the car, stopping dead in his tracks as he takes in the terrifying sight before him.

“Oh my god.”

Peter isn’t next to the car, he’s _under_ it. Tony can only see the kid’s shoulders and head but it’s enough to tell him Peter is definitely hurt. His curls are plastered to his forehead with blood and he’s clearly unconscious, or worse. 

With a panicked cry Tony falls to his knees, placing shaking fingers against Peter’s neck. He lets out a relieved groan when he feels a heartbeat-- sluggish but definitely there. 

“Wake up, kid,” Tony says, patting Peter’s cheek. “Peter, wake up!”

But the kid doesn’t stir, and that’s when Tony notices two things: first, that Peter’s lips are a soft, muted purple, and second-- the kid isn’t breathing, the weight of the car resting square on his chest.

“Oh god,” Tony says, patting Peter’s cheek harder. “Kid, wake up. You need to wake up now!”

But Peter doesn’t so much as twitch, Tony biting back a curse before looking back into the car and grunting out, “FRIDAY, call 911!”

When there’s no reply Tony does actually curse, wanting to smack himself for forgetting that the car hasn’t been outfitted with any tech yet, having just been picked up that morning. 

Frantic, Tony checks his pockets for his phone only to find it missing, lost in all the earlier chaos.

“No, no, no,” Tony mutters, taking a long look at Peter before getting back on his feet, eyes searching the grass for his cell as he runs back up the embankment to check for passing cars.

But just as he’d told Peter mere minutes ago-- the rural highway is abandoned, no cars in sight in either direction.

“No,” he says desperately, racing back down to the vehicle and crouching over the kid once more.

This time he outright slaps Peter’s ashen face, not even trying to hold back.

“Kid, wake up! That’s an order!”

When the kid’s head merely lolls to the side in response, Tony twists it back only to slap him again.

“Wake. _Up!”_

But there is no response, a sob escaping Tony when he sees that the Peter’s lips are now a dark, stormy blue.

 _I’m going to lose him again,_ Tony thinks. _I saved the goddamn universe for one boy, and now I’m going to lose him again._

With another sob Tony leans over until his forehead is resting against Peter’s, uncaring of all the blood.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” he whispers, voice wet and hitching. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Tony nearly loses himself to his grief-- nearly accepts that this is truly the end of Peter’s life and any peace Tony had managed to regain… 

But then the sobs subside, Tony lifting his head back up.

 _No,_ he thinks, staring down at Peter’s slack features. _I’m not letting this happen again._

“No,” Tony says resolutely, echoing his own thoughts as he stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Because he is _not_ losing the kid again. Peter Parker is not dying with Tony leaning helplessly over him _again_. 

Tony looks at where the side of the car is leaning against the tree-- only to walk the few feet over, plant his feet and place his grip underneath the broken driver’s side window, ignoring the sharp pain of glass shards slicing into his palms.

In that moment, Tony doesn’t think about the searing heat in his bad shoulder, or how he can barely lift a couple dozen pounds even on a Good Day.

Tony doesn’t think about telling Vee how he wished the Wakandan healers had just taken his arm, or how his weak fingers had lost their grip on Morgan’s tiny wrist.

Tony doesn’t think about the parameters, no.

Instead he smashes right through them, lifting with all his might.

His entire body - vocal cords included - screams, but Tony’s mind is only very distantly aware of the incredible strain-- oblivious to everything but saving his kid.

With a groan the car lifts, rising upward slowly but steadily until finally--

The vehicle starts to fall over on its side, Tony immediately grabbing at Peter’s armpits and yanking the kid’s whole body out of the way before the car can put any pressure on his legs.

Tony’s entire body feels numb as he falls back down to the ground, his bloodied hands immediately ghosting over Peter’s chest, feeling no movement.

Again Tony doesn’t think, just leans over to give the kid two quick rescue breaths and then--

A gasp escapes Peter, ribs pitching upward as his lungs take in a gulp of precious air.

“Thank god,” Tony breathes out, sighing in relief. “Thank you. Oh god-- _thank you.”_

But when after thirty seconds Peter’s eyes remain steadfastly closed, his breathing weak-- Tony feels the panic return once more.

He leans over Peter’s torso, pleading for one more miracle only to let out a relieved laugh when he finds the kid’s amazingly unbroken phone still in his front jeans pocket.

“Karen,” Tony says, the phone immediately lighting up. “Contact any Avengers at the compound along with medbay personnel. Tell them Peter and I were in a car accident, the kid’s hurt and we need a medical quinjet at our location pronto.”

_“I’m on it, Mr. Stark.”_

With help finally on the way, Tony drops the phone to the ground and places two fingers back to Peter’s neck-- taking comfort in the steady beat he feels there before moving the hand over to the kid’s chest once more, watching in fascination as it rises and falls over and over.

“I got you, kid,” Tony says, letting out a deep breath of his own as the last of the adrenaline rush bleeds out of him. Suddenly exhausted, he pats Peter’s chest gently.

“I got you.”

* * *

Tony is sitting in one of the medbay examination rooms - a nurse carefully stitching up a large, deep cut on his right palm - when Pepper comes in, not even bothering to knock.

“Oh my god, Tony,” she says, rushing over to him-- looking like she wants to touch him but not sure where.

“I’m okay, Pep,” he reassures her, cupping her face with his good hand which had already been bandaged. “Just a few nicks and dents.”

Pepper narrows his eyes. “Don’t talk like you’re just one of your suits, Tony. Two fractured ribs, puncture wounds in your knees and hands, torn tendons in _both_ your arms, countless contusions-- those aren’t just _nicks and dents_ when you’re a human being!”

Before Tony can respond, Pepper looks away, swiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that we nearly lost you not long ago, and then when I got the call, even knowing it had been at your command, I was still--”

“I’m okay, Pepper,” Tony says again, leaning over to give her a small kiss. “And I’m so sorry I scared you like that.”

“All done, Mr. Stark,” the nurse says then, clicking a final clasp over the ace bandage wrapped around Tony’s hand before heading for the door, leaving just the two of them.

Tony turns back to Pepper. “Is the kid awake yet? Cho said it was just a bad concussion, and then with his broken ribs--”

“I’m surprised that wasn’t the first thing you asked,” Pepper says with a smirk, before her smile turns soft. “He just woke up. May’s with him now, and Happy was taking Morgan to join them while I checked in on you.”

Tony sniffs. “Well, probably best to let them all be for now.”

Pepper arches an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”

“What happened-- the accident… it was my fault,” Tony admits, Pepper’s eyes going wide.

“But you told Steve it was a deer, how--”

“I was egging the kid on to go faster,” Tony interrupts, blowing out a deep breath and looking at the floor. “I knew I shouldn’t have, but-- _god,_ Pep. It felt so good to watch Pete get so excited about his car, and it got me thinking about when I was still able to drive, that thrill…”

Tony warily glances back up at Pepper, nervous of her reaction. But she’s just shaking her head with a smile.

“Tony, do you even realize what you _did_ out there?” she says. “Because Steve didn’t just tell me about the deer-- he said you _lifted_ the car off Peter.”

Tony shrugs. “I didn’t have a choice. There was no other way.”

Pepper lets out an incredulous laugh. “Tony. You _lifted_ a car-- not Iron Man, _you._ That’s-- that’s _incredible._ I mean… how...”

Pepper trails off, shaking her head again.

“I just… I couldn’t fail him again, Pep,” Tony says finally. “I watched him die once, then I let Morgan fall, and I just-- even if it killed me, I needed to save him. I’d already failed my children - not to mention you, and Hap, and Rhodey - too many times before.”

There’s silence between them for a few moments, before Pepper presses gentle fingertips to Tony’s temple, weaving them through his hair. “I know how hard things have been for you, dealing with the meds and the slow progress and even though you try to hide it, I know you feel like a burden--”

“Pep--”

“No, let me finish,” Pepper says. “Just listen, Tony.”

At Tony’s nod of agreement Pepper goes on. “After Morgan fell, I’ll admit I got a bit nervous. Not because I don’t trust you, but because I know you tend to push your limits.”

Pepper leans in until their noses are almost touching, gaze fixed on Tony’s.

“But pushing your limits today is what saved Peter too,” Pepper continues. “And more than anything, I am so damn grateful for that fight in you. Even injured, even defeated, even when you’d lost so much and all you wanted was to run far away and never put on that suit again-- you’ve never lost that fight in you. That need to protect. Because you _are_ a fighter, Tony. The fact that Peter came back at all is proof enough of that.”

Pepper pulls away just a little. “So don’t you ever doubt for one second that you’re still a hero, and even more important-- you are this _family’s_ hero. The best one I could possibly imagine for us.”

Tony doesn’t realize he’s crying until Pepper wipes away a tear from his cheek, only to give him a tender kiss.

“So no more talk about feeling guilty over this, okay? It was an accident, just like the treehouse,” Pepper says, tone sharp as though daring Tony to argue with her. When Tony doesn’t, she adds more softly, “And just like the treehouse, a superhero came in and saved the day. In this case, my favorite one.”

Tony smiles, giving Pepper another kiss. “Well, who am I to argue with that?”

* * *

When Tony and Pepper enter Peter’s medbay room - Pepper pushing Tony in a wheelchair - it’s to a shout of delight from Morgan who runs over to give Tony a hug.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” she asks, voice muffled from where her face is pressed into his neck.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m okay,” he responds, carefully hugging her back as best he can before turning to Peter-- Pepper wheeling him right up next to the bed.

There’s a giant bandage over the left side of the kid’s forehead, along with some facial bruising. But what catches Tony’s attention is the way Peter’s chest is adorned with bandages too and _shit,_ nobody mentioned anything more than the broken ribs.

Guilt swells in Tony’s gut at the sight, and it takes everything in him not to let his voice waver when he asks, “How you doin’, kiddo?”

Peter just gives him a small, sincere smile. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. A little banged up but nothing worse than a rough night on patrol.”

Tony lets out an indignant huff, but before he can reply May speaks up.

“Why don’t we give you two some time to chat, huh?” she says, looking knowingly between Tony and Peter. “C’mon everyone, I never had breakfast and I’m starving. Let’s go put together some lunch.”

May leans down toward Morgan, voice an exaggerated whisper. “And maybe we can also make Peter a cake for his birthday since the other one is at your house! Do you want to help me with that?”

“Yes!” Morgan cries out, racing for the door without a backward glance-- Pepper, Happy and May following her out. 

Tony watches them leave before looking over at Peter again. “Well, that was subtle.”

“I don’t think May meant it to be,” Peter says with a chuckle, only to sober. “I really am okay, Tony. Just some boring lacerations from where a bit of jagged metal got me.”

“Yeah, sure, _boring,_ ” Tony replies skeptically. “The Egyptian mummy impression you’re doing right now says different, kiddo.”

Peter looks like he wants to argue but after a few moments his expression turns suddenly tentative. Tony watches as he picks at the edge of his bed sheet but says nothing, giving the kid time to organize his thoughts. 

“Doctor Cho told me what you did,” Peter finally says, voice soft. “She called it a _feat of hysterical strength--_ said it’s practically unheard of for a non-enhanced person.”

Tony chews his lip, turning away. “Yeah well, nothing you can’t do with only the tip of your pinky finger, Pete.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m _enhanced,”_ Peter says, rolling his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is-- thank you. For saving me, and for-- for always looking out for me. For all of us.”

“Oh kid,” Tony says, tone losing all its bite as he leans over in his wheelchair and pushes some of the kid’s curls out of his eyes-- ignoring the tug of pain the action causes. “You don’t have to thank me for that. That’s my job, isn’t it? Iron Man doesn’t get days off.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling fondly even as he pins Tony with an open sincerity only the kid is capable of.

“I wasn’t talking about Iron Man.”

Tony takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly in a most likely futile effort to stave off the tears he can feel welling up. God, what is it with his family and their neverending ability to emotionally floor him? 

It’s a conspiracy, is what it is.

“Just did what I had to do, kid,” he finally replies, trying to go for casual even as it’s clear Peter’s not buying it. “Couldn’t let you beat me to the pearly gates again, after all. Once was bad enough but twice? Frankly embarrassing.”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, I seem to recall a certain someone telling me that I’d be grounded for eternity if I did that again.”

“Damn straight,” Tony replies with a sniffle-- Peter giving him a small half-smile at the sound, eyes bright.

“I love you, Tony,” Peter whispers, the last word coming out as one long, drawn-out yawn. 

Tony chuckles-- grateful for an excuse to stop talking about anything even remotely related to Peter dying. “Get some rest, kid. Once you wake up, maybe we can properly celebrate your birthday, huh?”

Peter leans back against the pillow, eyes already closed. “Sounds good. Prob’ly gonna take May a few tries to get an edible cake, anyway. Should jus’ let Morgan make it.”

He peeks open one eye, mumbling, “Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Pete,” Tony replies, but the kid’s breaths are already steadying out, heart monitor slowing down as the kid falls further and further into a peaceful rest.

Watching Peter sleep, Tony thinks about the last year-- the anniversary of the final battle only weeks away now. 

He thinks about the excruciating pain of the burns, the constant frustration of PT, the mental and emotional toll his new physical constraints took on his psyche.

But then Tony thinks of how he kissed Peter’s neck when he finally hugged him, and of the first time he saw the kid with Morgan. He thinks of the look of pure, unfiltered faith in Rhodey’s eyes when he’d declared _Tony Stark doesn't quit_ and in Pepper’s when she’d whispered _you’re this family’s hero--_ both of them nearly identical to the leveling gaze Peter gave him when he said _I wasn’t talking about Iron Man._

Though it again strains his injured muscles, Tony lifts his bad arm just enough so that the pads of his fingers can ghost over Peter’s own upturned ones-- only to find himself feeling for perhaps the first time truly _grateful_ that even if he can’t grip Peter’s hand with his own, at least he can feel the kid’s warm skin. 

_Alive,_ Tony thinks as he curls his hand into Peter’s open palm. _We are both here, and whole, and alive._

Tony may not be able to do what he used to be able to, but he can do all the things that matter. Things like touch, and look after, and--

“Love you too, kiddo,” Tony murmurs softly, closing his eyes and resting his head back.

Might as well get some rest while things are quiet, Tony supposes. He’ll be back to the fight just as soon as he wakes up. After all, he’s Tony Stark. 

And Tony Stark is a fighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Veronica Benning was Tony's physical therapist in the comics! They had a romantic relationship as well but of course that could not be included here. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are most appreciated. Or come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://blondsak.tumblr.com)!


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